


In Which Sollux Discovers the Advantages and Pitfalls of Having Two Pet Nookworms

by cenobitesquid



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Bulges and Nooks, Concupiscent Toys, Dual Bulges, Egg Laying, Oviposition, Sex Toys, Worms, nookworm
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-21
Updated: 2016-04-21
Packaged: 2018-06-03 16:28:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,507
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6617848
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cenobitesquid/pseuds/cenobitesquid
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sollux gets more than he bargains for out of his concupiscent toys when his two nookworms breed with each other.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In Which Sollux Discovers the Advantages and Pitfalls of Having Two Pet Nookworms

**Author's Note:**

> A gift for syblatortue on tumblr! This work involves egg laying and squirming baby nookworms so if that creeps you out perhaps give this one a pass.

You wake to the feeling of something writhing energetically in your nook. Shit. Did you fall asleep in the wrong half of your recuperacoon? Because those are definitely both of your nookworms, not just wriggled way the hell up your nook, but gyrating and squirming and twining against each other as if they were going at it. Which, actually, now that you think of it, since nookworms are hermaphroditic, maybe they /are/ going at it. Great, just the way you wanted to start your evening, playing breeding grounds to two uninvitedly frisky concupiscent toys.

You about pulling them out, dragging your sorry glutes out of the spoor and into the ablutions trap, but can’t quite seem to get up the drive for it. Besides, it’s not like it doesn’t feel pretty damn incredible, their slick bodies pulsing and twisting around each other, burrowing deep inside of your nook, little nubs stimulating your slick inner walls. Well, what’s another few minutes in the sopor, you think, reaching a hand down to stroke against your twin bulges, which are already coiling more than halfway out of your bone sheath.

Your hand strokes firm and quick, long strokes around the outside of your bulges, which are rubbing together nearly in tandem with the nookworms filling your nook. As you get more aroused, they get more energetic, responding to the fluttering contractions of your nook. You rest your head back against the squishy edge of the recuperacoon and let yourself relax into the sensation, little groans and chirrs working out of your throat. The humming of your mainframe blocks out any noises you might make anyway, so despite the thin walls of your hivestem, the neighbors won’t hear you getting off so early in the evening, like a useless, depraved slacker.

As you feel your orgasm creeping closer, you feel yourself become considerably less grumpy, the constant psychic background noise in your pan dying down as your brain cells light up with pleasure, instead, your psiionics crackling light static from your horns down against your scalp, tingling and pleasant. Why did you think this was a bad idea, again? Maybe you should start keeping your nookworms in the same side you sleep in from now on. You could definitely get used to getting off like this as a much less shitty way to start off the night. Another shaky groan escapes you, and your hand squeezes down hard against the base of your bulges as you feel yourself spurt genetic material, the worms greedily sucking it down, the extra seeping out into the sopor.

With a deep breath, your eyes slide closed again, and you bask in the pleasant aftershocks, nook throbbing and sensitive. Thankfully, your nookworms responded to the extra gush of genetic material by moving more sluggishly, just little rippling undulations of their bodies, swollen fat with your release. Well, that was unexpectedly sort of nice, you think, and you’re reaching down to pull out the worms when you feel something odd.

One of the worms has wriggled deeper to poke the blunt, squishy end of it’s body against your seedflap, and a tremor shoots through your nook as something smooth and solid passes through, into you. What the actual /fuck/? Your breath hitches, and you reach down into your nook, but when you try to tug the first worm out, it swells up thicker and resists, it’s soft little nubby ridges and legs braced against the walls of your nook, and combined the suddenly more swollen girth of it, you can tell it’s hopelessly lodged into you. Just great.

While you flip out and panic, weighing out the utter destructive humiliation of possibly explaining this situation to another living soul, versus dealing with it on your own and possibly just coming to terms with the fact that for the rest of your life you’re going to be living with two swollen nookworms shoved up your nook as punishment for your ambitions, you feel that strange sensation of something smooth pressing into you again, and you grip at your own thighs. What the hell? 

Suddenly, it dawns on you. What happens after mating. One of your worms is laying it’s eggs in you. Fuck, you are sort of disgusted and sort of strangely aroused all at the same time, and still pretty much freaking out. You drag your hands over your face, which has flushed a bright mustard yellow, and stifle the twin urges to scream or moan. After those first couple, you feel it start to increase the pace, popping those eggs right through your sensitive seedflap one by one, making your slurry bladder feel more and more swollen up. Come on, the worms aren’t that big, how the fuck did it fit that many eggs in it? Your fingers are shaking as you reach down, terrified at the thought that your abdomen would be swollen up. 

Despite the gaunt concave of your stomach, though, you can’t feel anything out of place. Except the writhing of your bulges, which, wow, are really fucking interested in this new development, in a way that frankly embarrasses the hell out of you. Gingerly you press your fingers in, applying even more pressure to your taut material bladder, and groan as your nook convulses, and your bulges thrash.

In the end, you end up getting off a second time, and by the time you come, explosively, the nookworms seem to be done with you, wriggling out in the wash of your material from your nook. It takes you awhile longer to get out of the recuperacoon, strangely exhausted from the back to back orgasms, and the strange sensation of being packed full of foreign objects. When you move, you can feel them shifting around inside of you, not unpleasant, but strange.

You shower off and decide to try to forget this ever happened, washing the sopor and material off of you, getting dressed and planting your glutes resolutely in front of your husktop. You close Trollian, you don’t want to talk to or think about anyone else, you just want to lose yourself in code. The night drags by, and eventually your stream of coding is uncharacteristically interrupted by sharp pangs of hunger. Usually when you forget to eat, you feel tired and sluggish before you actually feel hungry, but it feels urgent this time, and drives you into the kitchen, stuffing your face with cheap snack food, and drinking down way more water than you usually do. 

You’ve shuffled back to your computer and sat down, when you feel it. A shift in your abdomen, a sort of vibration. Fuck. Your nook has been dripping all night, and your pants are basically toast at this point, the crotch soaked through with your own slurry. You push back the computer chair and spread your thighs, hands pressed helplessly into your abdomen, trying to figure out what the hell is going on. The vibration turns to more distinct wiggling, writhing. The eggs were hatching. You curse, and groan, and shift from the chair onto the floor, lying flat on your back and glaring up at your ceiling, as your bulges slip out again, like they can’t fucking get enough of your new calling as a breeding host body for concupiscent worms. 

When the first one wiggles out through your seedflap you have to stifle a loud moan, curling up on yourself and staring down as a slow seep of material drips out of you. The whole fucking writhing mass of them up against your seedflap is driving you crazy, your nook pulsing and clenching, not sure if it wants to keep them in or push them out. It seems like it takes forever, but slowly, they wriggle in ones and twos through your sensitive flap, into your nook. When it gets crammed too full of little writhing bodies, they spill out onto the floor, wriggling in the soupy mess of your slurry. It’s kind of disgusting, but your bulges throb, and you give in, stroking yourself as the little worms spill slowly out of you, lighting up your nook with very un-bulge-like sensations that nonetheless feel weirdly incredible. 

When you come, it’s with an almost feral noise that makes you immediately flush, screwing your eyes tight and clamping your mouth shut to ride out the shuddering wave of the orgasm, your seedflap aching, oversensitive, your abdomen and nook feeling strangely empty as the last of the worms wash out with your slurry. Tentatively, you open your eyes, to see a whole fucking colony of happily squirming red and blue worms between your slurry-drenched thighs. Wow. You sit there stunned, as your bulge retracts, considering. Eventually you shift up to your feet, sore and sensitized, and limp over to get a en empty plastic storage box, scooping them into it and setting it by your husktop. 

You open Trollian. You have a feeling you’re about to get a lot more popular, considering you now have a tiny army of concupiscent party favors to trade.


End file.
